


Stories From the Last Train to Colter

by HalcyonAssassin



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, No Smut, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalcyonAssassin/pseuds/HalcyonAssassin
Summary: Just some one-shots of you (the reader) living life in the Van der Linde gang!
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 55





	1. You get kidnapped by the O'Driscoll gang (Arthur/Female!Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Got an idea for a one-shot? Something you wanna see happen? Just really want something fluffy? Drop a request! (I am not currently writing smut)

There were a lot of things that drove Arthur Morgan crazy. Sometimes they were small things, like Micah’s attitude, or large things, like anyone from the O’Driscoll clan interfering with his own gang. 

Right now, both things were intertwined and he could feel his fuse getting smaller and smaller as he clenched his jaw as Micah would just not stop talking. More specifically making excuses as to why he had done something stupid.

“-we hadn’t been too far from the river, I know that much.” He said, rubbing his chin nonchalantly as if discussing where he lost a personal belonging as opposed to letting someone kidnap you.  


“You had one fucking job, Micah!” Arthur finally snapped, standing up in a rage, bumping the map covered table and stepped closer to the man, fists balled up tight. “She fished and you set rabbit snares. Dutch told you two not to stray! Why the hell did you decide to run off after a deer and leave her alone?!” Arthur demanded, his voice low and dangerous, but before Micah could even reply, the man's fist connected with his nose with a sickening crunch. Before anyone could even really make sense of the situation Micah was on the ground under Arthur’s bloodied fists, but Hosea and Dutch jumped forward and grabbed the man’s arms, yanking him off of Micah.

“Enough!!” Dutch finally cut in, roughly dropping Arthur's arm, “Arthur, we’ll find her, but not if ya blow your fuse every time Micah opens his maw!” He stared at the man in the eyes as he spoke again, “Charles just got back. We have a lead, but you gotta calm down long enough to get on your horse and get there.” Arthur rushed to his mare and jumped on, only hoping you stayed strong until they found you.  


“I’ll ask ya one more time, girlie. Where is Dutch, and more importantly his money?” The O’Driscoll asked. Jim was his name, you knew. He was tall and thin, scraggly like a street dog that was too snappy to be taken in. His long hair was greasy and unkempt, his mustache was the same, gross and too shiny to have been cleaned recently.

Jim raised the hunting knife in his hands to your cheek, pressing hard enough that you could feel the skin break under the pressure and some blood trickle down your face. You couldn't help the hiss that escaped from your lips, but between the handful of cuts and the dried blood and bruising on your scalp (from being smacked over the head with what you were fairly sure was a whisky bottle) you didn't feel the need to betray your family.  


“Bite me.” You spat confidently despite your exhaustion, looking up at Jim with a steely expression. Everyone knew how loyal Dutch’s men (and women) were, even those like you that weren’t exactly the rowdy type like John or Arthur. But it seems Jim was sure that a "soft woman like yerself" would yield in no time. God you would never forgive him for calling you that.  


Jim snarled, he had been growing increasingly impatient with your lack of answers over the last few hours, but before he could properly express his anger the sound of hooves and gunshots destroyed the mostly silent sunset. For the first time since sunset that day, you felt hope that your friends had finally come through.  


“Get away from the girl and-”  However the command, which you registered as coming from John was interrupted by the deafening crack of a pistol shot.

"John! Arthur!" You cried out in glee at seeing friendly faces after such a long, pain filled day.

“Jesus, Arthur.” John snorted quietly at Arthur's low tolerance, as he pulled his horse to a stop and began to dismount. “Any more O’Driscolls ‘round here sugar?” John called to you as he drew the knife from his boot and made his way around the fire to cut you down from the tree limb where your arms were tied up, dangling you like a skinned deer, your tiptoes just barely reaching the dirt.

“Other than Jim? There were four, but they went hunting, up on the ridge to the west. Something about a small hunting cabin past a waterfall.” You reported as Arthur slipped off his mare and walked over beside John, holding your arm as John freed you from your bindings so you wouldn’t fall over as you readjusted to being on your feet properly.

“‘Atta girl.” John smiled at you, patting your shoulder in a proud gesture, but letting Arthur take control of holding you. Everyone could tell Arthur had a soft spot for you a mile wide, and so even though John was one of your most trusted friends in the group, went back standing beside his horse, he just gave you a gentle nod.

He watched Arthur help you onto Boadicea before speaking up, “I'll catch back up with Charles and head west and see if we can’t spot this cabin. Arthur, you take her back onto camp.”

Arthur gave a nod, replying to something you didn’t bother trying to catch as you could feel the exhaustion creeping up and the adrenaline ebbing away. You felt Arthur spur his mare off down the trail, reminding you to grab onto him.

When you didn’t, Arthur stopped Boadicea, patting her neck quickly before looking back at you.

“Darlin’, ya hear me?” He asked, concerned you may have fainted or had some wound he didn’t see before. Instead, he was met with your silent tears, as you attempted to process all of your emotions from the past day. “Hey, hey, ain’t nothing to cry for.” He said gently, sliding off the saddle and standing beside you. “Yer alright darlin’.” The man paused and his brow furrowed before he asked,

“God they didn’t…touch ya, did they?” He asked, the anger starting to rise, but it was quelled almost immediately as you shook your head frantically. Arthur exhaled in relief before pulling a bandanna from his pocket and wiping the blood from your cheek, along with some tears. “Ya know, the way you held it together as John cut ya down, that was somethin’.”

“What do you mean?” You finally spoke up, wiping some of your tears too as Arthur set the cloth on your leg for you to continue using to dry your cheeks as he hopped back up on his horse once he determined you were fit to keep riding .

“I’ve seen some men break the second they see their friends comin’ Some who break the minute they get taken away. Ya held it together long enough to send Charles and John after those cowards.” The hint of pride in his voice was enough to make you crack a smile, and at last you wrapped your arms around Arthur’s waist and pressed your face into his back, just letting yourself relax a bit. "Sometimes ya just need to let it out. Don't mean you ain't tough or strong. Hell if you impressed John you're probably a step ahead of me." He said with a soft chuckle, and you smiled too as you heard the noise.  


This wasn't a side of Arthur anyone usually saw. The soft, human side. If Arthur didn't have feelings for you (and you didn't feel the same) you know you'd probably never see it either. You closed your eyes and let the rhythm of riding and Arthur's scent comfort you.

“So…Micah still breathing?” You asked after a bit now significantly calmer, even if your nose was a little clogged from crying, and you could practically hear the gears grinding in his head before he spoke,

“Yeah, only ‘cause of Dutch and Hosea.” He seemed to want to leave it at that, so you took the hint and let the amicable silence fill the air as night set in, cool and soothing. "We'll get ya all patched up then you can get some rest. I can imagine your bed seems pretty invitin' right about now."

"I dunno Arthur," You said quietly, daring to take a chance after the stressful day, "Seems like someone should stay with you in your tent tonight so you don't murder Micah in his sleep."

"He deserves it, but you're right. You volunteerin'?" He asked with a smirk as he looked back at you.

"And what if I am, Mr. Morgan?" You replied with a smile, and slight blush. His smirk grew as he turned back forward, giving a soft hum as he considered his reply,  


"If you are, you'd best know it ain't gonna be a one-time job."


	2. Getting Your First Horse: Arthur Morgan/F!Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is says in the title!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests still open! (still no smut, sorry lol)

Arthur gingerly stepped over you as you slept peacefully in the tent, careful not to wake you. Like most folks in this life, you were a light sleeper and it was critical he snuck away without waking you. God how he hated seeing the look in your eyes when he went off without you. Not only because you worried about him, but because ever since they got you back from the O’Driscolls lackeys, you had been adamant about getting tougher, learning to fight and shoot, which usually meant every single job Dutch handed out was accompanied by a pitiful look from you, with big doe eyes as you begged to tag along and learn.

Most of the time you were rejected, not because the men thought less of you, but because it was hard to find a time to really teach someone how to do the job without just putting them in the middle of a gunfight. And they knew there’d be hell to pay with Arthur if you came back injured on their watch.

Charles, with his ever patient attitude, opted to take you hunting with him, and Arthur had recently asked him how you were improving. Charles said you were ready for a real job, both with your aim and your attitude, but this wasn’t a trip Arthur wanted you on. And there was exactly one reason: The Murfee Brood. He had to head directly through their territory.

Those men were nigh impossible to kill quickly, and he wasn’t entirely ready to blow off the rumor that they’d eaten some poor folks either. The lunatics rubbed him all sorts of wrong ways, and he didn’t want you anywhere near him. Though John had promised to let you tag along with him to the nearby town later today, Arthur knew you’d beg to come along with him instead. 

He’d rather you be mad at him later for sneaking off than make you face down a Murfee on your first outing with a gun, or have you pouting at him because he’d been stern with you and not let you come. He’d make it up to you in town, he told John he’d be there later after he did what Dutch had been asking of him since his route took him right through anyway.

It was about that time in the day as Arthur arrived, walking his mare up to the rendezvous point he and John and picked out last night.

“-and that’s what I told him, sugar.” John smirked as you both sat on an abandoned building's stairs, rather pleased he’d made you laugh as hard as you were now. 

As Arthur slipped off of Boadicea up, John knew if he had been anyone else, except perhaps Hosea or Charles, the approaching man would not be as amicable as he was upon hearing someone else call you ‘sugar’. 

However that was simply John’s nickname for you, and had been for a while, so Arthur knew it didn’t mean anything against the silent claim he had staked on you.

“Arthur!” You greeted him with a grin as he meandered over, giving you a warm nod and a soft smile. 

“Afternoon. John treating ya okay?” He glanced up at his compatriot, who rolled his eyes as responded to him by turning to you,

“We’re hopping into the general store you comin’ along?”

After a minute of pondering you declined, stating you’d like to take a look around town instead.

“Don’t be starting no fights now.” John teased, and when you nodded, rolling your eyes with a smile, the men went on inside.

They returned to find you showering a corralled horse with affection across the road, cooing over him as if he were a baby or a puppy as opposed to a horse.

“Aw, you’re not mean, you’re just a bit grumpy, ain’t ya?” You teased the gelding, a hand resting on his neck as he nickered softly, honestly loving the affection. “Maybe a bit rowdy, but that’s nothing a little love can’t fix, huh?” 

Arthur chuckled softly as he watched you from down a ways leaning against the fence lazily, and when a man walked up beside him, he glanced at him curiously.

The man spit into the dirt before scoffing quietly. “Don’t know who the hell that girl is but that’s the quietest I’ve ‘eer seen that bugger of a horse.”

“She has that effect on everyone.” Arthur remarked with a quiet chuckle. “Horse or not.”

“In that case, I’ll sell him to ya. Thing won’t listen to a word I say, worst gelding I ever laid hands on. If she don’t want him, he’s getting sold to the factory.”

Arthur reached into his sack and pulled out a sum of coins, probably more than he should have given for what could have been a rowdy horse, offering them to the man. “Then he’s hers.” Arthur said definitively, grabbing some tack from the fence beside him before walking closer to you and the equine.

“Found yerself a pal?” He questioned as he watched you stroke the horse’s nose in a loving manner.

“Yeah, he’s a real sweetheart.” You grinned, clearly enamored with the buckskin gelding, gently brushing your fingers through his black mane as he gave you a quick nuzzle.

“Good, ‘cause he’s yours.” Arthur hummed, holding out the tack to you, which made you pause, tilting your head slightly in confusion and looking up at Arthur with those damn doe eyes again.

“What?”

“Owner said he don’t want to bother with him no more, so he said you should take him.”

And before Arthur could react, you had crushed him in a big hug, which to your happiness, made the man laugh softly.

“Yeah yeah, you bring him over to the hitch while I grab you a saddle and a blanket.” He shook his head, watching as you happily settled the lead on your new horse.

He returned and helped you saddle up the gelding, John watching with a knowing smirk, having witnessed the entire event. Arthur hopped on Boadicea and you two set off into a walk as Arthur watched carefully for signs your new ride may be ready to buck. 

However, as everyone would learn in the near future, this horse would be touchy with pretty much anyone who wasn’t you. He was pretty much aloof and content on his own, or with the other horses.

When it was you he was carrying, Arthur had rarely seen such a loyal and focused steed. He understood, after all while Boadicea was a social mare, she had bonded to Arthur in the same way. This actually made Arthur happy, knowing your new horse was wary of anyone who you didn’t like. Since you were insistent on starting jobs, you needed a reliable mount, and someone's first horse would always be in their heart.

After riding a while, towards the warm, but setting sun, Arthur spoke up, “Ya think of a name yet?”

“Yellow.” You responded without much hesitation, and Arthur cocked his head curiously, his quiet way of asking for more information as he repeated the name back, testing it on his tongue,

“Yella?”

“Yep.” You grinned, knowing very much the reason you had named your new steed something so seemingly ‘bland’ was simply because of the way Arthur said it. That southern cowboy drawl wasn’t the same as your more eastern accent, which put more sound on the ‘ow’ sound, rather than his which swapped it out altogether. 

You adored Arthur’s accent, the way certain sounds were drawn out and cut off, it was something you found comforting and warm, especially when his ‘darlin’ and ‘ya alright’s were directed at you. Knowing you’d get to add another word to that accented vocabulary and hear it on a daily basis was a delight to you, and anyone who didn’t like the gelding’s new name would never understand exactly what they were missing out on.


	3. Trying To Find Loot with Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests still open!

Arthur glanced ahead at you as Yellow stepped along peacefully beside his own horse. You were singing quietly, making him smile a little as he listened in. Despite the fact you were venturing off on a job, your first real job, your spirit seemed indelible. It was supposed to be an easier one, an old farm house with a cache of abandoned items, including some rumored bonds and cash. Along with the rumor that something...beyond the realm of the natural resided inside the old homestead. Honestly, you were all worried more about other raiders showing up than a ghost or spirit.

Naturally, it worried Arthur to bring you along, there wasn't an significant chance of being shot or otherwise hurt. But Arthur knew that you, like your horse, were stubborn, and he knew you weren't weak, far from it. And as he had learned with his lovers in the past, sometimes no matter how tight you hold, life can still interfere. So, he would keep you close, but also let you build yourself a shield against the dangers of the world.

"That's it, ahead." Arthur interrupted your soft song, and you slowed your horses down, stopping just before the old, decrepit cabin. You could see why it developed a reputation for being a haunted old shack. The windows, even the ones without broken glass, had the shutters nailed closed, and the door was surprisingly still latched shut, but an old plank with the crudely painted 'keep out' in slightly ominous, dripping black paint, as if scribbled quickly and hung to dry as fast as possible. The roof was sagging a bit, the porch covered in cobwebs and a broken down rocking chair.

"Alright, we've got about 15 minutes a' light left, let's get the horses tied up." Arthur spoke up, breaking your concentration, you then nodded and slipped off your gelding, following Arthur to a the skeleton of an old barn, with just enough roof left to shelter your horses as the sun began to set. You gave Yellow a gentle pat on the nose before pulling your lantern from his back.

"Darlin', you mind going in first?" Arthur asked as you slowly neared the decrepit old house, "You're lighter than me, less likely to fall through the floor."

"Sure..." You nodded slowly, but gave him a small smirk back as you added a teasing, "If you're afraid of ghosts, Arthur, all you gotta do is say so."

Arthur glared sharply at you and muttered a fast, "Shaddup and open the damned door." Though you could tell he wasn't really mad, he was just more annoyed that you beat him to the teasing this time.

You jiggled the knob, and after jamming your shoulder into the door a few times, it swung open spraying a poof of dust on the both of you. You sneezed and waved your hand in front of your nose to clean away the dust before slowly edging forward. The floor creaked ominously, but didn't seem too rotted or weak, so you nodded to your lover that it was clear.

Arthur walked in first and lit a match, starting up his lantern. Once his ran dry, then you would light yours. He raised the warm light up so you could study the remnants of the living room. The empty room, aside from the stone fireplace, whistled and creaked as the wind picked up outside.

Arthur cussed and shook his head, "I was hopin' we'd beat the storm back to camp. Hopefully it'll lighten up soon."

You started forward without comment, not wanting to admit you'd rather face the wrath of the storm quickly piping up outside instead of spending the night in this house. "Let's just find this money and go." You muttered, starting by opening some of the cabinets in the tiny kitchen. Arthur nodded and set the lantern between you, starting his own search by prying the rusted old hinges off of a locked trunk.

As the night grew darker and the rain came down harder, the hiding places for the supposed treasure became less and less. You had pulled the last mouse eaten book from the shelf and turned to Arthur with the shake of your head.

"I guess a rumor is a rumor for a reason." Arthur muttered, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it from the lantern with a huff. "Let's just wait out the rain before-"

CRASH

You and Arthur whirled around as quickly as you could, immediately worried some other raiders had forced their way in, or lightning had collided with the roof.

"What the hell?" Arthur asked as you both realized that you were safe...but a cabinet had come forward and smashed into the floor. It was a heavy piece of furniture, and for it to just fall over was strange and startling. You both walked over, and Arthur knelt down to study the base of the wall where the cabinet was previously resting.

You, however, noticed a strange cut out in the back of the cabinet, like someone had out a square in the back and then nailed it back on. Curious, you pulled your knife out and began to pry it off. Spotting your new act, Arthur stood back up and watched you.

When you finally yanked it off, you gasped as you saw a secret compartment someone had built into the back of the cabinet, and inside was a folded old paper. You grabbed it and unfolded it, reading over the old writing upon it. A lot of the letters were lost with time, but you could decipher most of the important information.

'Dearest Marie,  
This is the last time I'll be goin to my ole cabin.  
Th- bes- pl-c- I ca- thi-- to hid- the mon-- is -he k-y.  
I h--e y-u fin- and u-e it w-ll.  
lov- Thoma-'

"This place ain't got a cellar, and non a' the doors are locked." Arthur said with a slight frown, taking another puff from his smoke. "No stairs inside or out, what's a key for then?."

"But what else could that word be?" You asked, setting the letter beside the lantern and sitting on the fallen cabinet, "Maybe there's a sealed off room?"

Arthur perked up at that, squashing his cigarette into the stone fireplace with a grin, "Darlin' you're pretty brilliant. Let's start lookin'. Somewhere the floor or wall looks different, like it's hidin' an old door."

You nodded enthusiastically and jumped up, beginning to scour the walls around you. A half an hour or so passed before you spoke up again, "Arthur! Over here!"

He hurried over and peered over your shoulder as you pulled a stone out of the fireplace, revealing an old skeleton key. Arthur picked it up and turned it around in his hands,

"The key." He concluded, placing a soft kiss on your forehead with pride before he looked around again. "Wasn't there a keyhole in the kitchen? The locked pantry?"

You nodded frantically and you both rushed over to the locked door. Arthur slid the key in, and turned it. The door opened without hesitation, revealing several shelves stocked with dozens and dozens of identical wooden boxes.

"Damn, it'll take us hours to sort through all of these." Arthur said, but as he went to set the lantern down so you could start, you were both again startled by a single box falling from the highest shelf and smashing open.

Inside was three thick stacks of cash, eyes wide, Arthur scooped it up, thumbing through it before whistling. "There's at least 2 grand here!"

Cheering, you jumped forward and pulled him into an excited kiss. Arthur's eyes widened and he paused in shock before melting into your kiss.

After several minutes, he pulled away from you, and when he saw your pouting eyes, he chuckled, "We can celebrate like that later, darlin'. The rain's settled down, let's get movin'. I'll make it up to ya back in our tent." He promised with a sly smirk, so you nodded and followed him towards the front door.

As you both shoved open the barn door, whoops and hollers filled the sky.

"Lookee here, Dutch sent his own men to pick up our money for us!"

"Shit, O'Driscolls!" Arthur spat and pulled his pistol, prompting you to do the same. You pressed yourself against the old barn wall as the first shots from the intruders fired off.

You leaned forward and fired a few shots before hiding again as the O'Driscolls fired back. Arthur pulled his rifle from his back and fired several shots. "There's only five of 'em, we've got three already!" he told you, eyeing you from the side as you leaned forward and fired more shots. The volleying of shots occupied several minutes, but the last O'Driscoll had snuck up up the barn and moved to lunge at Arthur, who caught him and wrestled him to the ground before knocking his lights out. Literally. He smacked him with your nearby unlit lantern.

"You good?" He panted, stepping over the unconscious man to walk over and look you up and down, placing his hands on your arms.

"I'm fine." You nodded, brain still buzzing with adrenaline. "I'm fine. You?"

"Just fine darlin'. Let's get moving before more come this way." He said, talking your hand and walking you over to your horses. You both mounted and walked your equines towards the trail that would lead you back home to the camp. The back of your neck prickled like you were being watched as you rode out, and fearing more O'Driscolls prepping an ambush you turned around and looked over your shoulder.

There were no O'Driscolls, but glancing back at the cabin you could have sworn you spotted a man standing on the porch, holding Arthur's empty lantern, forgotten in your excitement. You blinked hard, and he was gone.

"What's wrong darlin'?" Arthur asked, and you looked back over at him.

"The cabinet falling over...and the box with the cash too...you don't suppose there was really something...supernatural in that cabin, do you?" You asked, glancing behind you again, with still no sign of the man.

"Who knows? I ain't in any position to say what happens when we die. I can only hope God has mercy on an old fool like me." Arthur hummed, pulling out another smoke and lighting it up.

You gave only a hum in reply, and after riding for a while, Arthur spoke up again, "I'd stay here if it meant I got to look after you until we'd be together again." You smiled at the sentiment behind the words, and looked over at him,

"Arthur Morgan, you're getting soft on me, aren't you?"

The man chuckled lightly as he took another puff from his cigarette. "Nah, I'm getting soft FOR you, darlin'. Big difference. I won't get soft until we're sitting pretty in a house all our own and our biggest worry is what we're havin' for breakfast."

"I love you, Arthur." You smiled again, watching the man you truly did adore take another drag of his smoke with a grin.

"When we get back to the tent I'm holdin' ya to that."

"Oh, just like I'm holding your promise of finishing what you started in the cabin?" You rebutted with a grin, and at that, Arthur's smile turned into a full grin to match yours,

"You don't gotta try so hard to make me love you."


	4. Arthur makes you a wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requests are still open! Please feel free to drop some!!

As your nightly sleep abandoned you, you dared to open your eyes to see exactly what you feared: the sun was rising, and with it the camp. With an unhappy grunt, you scooted closer to Arthur who was still sleep behind you, today enjoying the role of the big spoon, with his arm over your side and one of his legs over yours. The only thing making it not exactly intimate was the fact you both were bundled up to fight off the cold of this god-forsaken mountain. Not that you were ungrateful for the warmth, in fact the wool blanket over you two was what usually kept you comfortable, you just wish the snow would stop long enough you two could abandon your long-johns and socks as you cuddled in your sleep.

And you DID NOT want to move from your warm spot today. You could hear only a cacophony of wind and white outside the window, showing that the blizzard had no intentions of stopping anytime soon. Arthur grunted and you felt his muscles tense as he stretched into awareness.

"You shoulda woken me darlin'." He mumbled rubbing the scratchy beard covering his chin before opening his eyes and watching you roll over to face him.

"I was hoping you'd sleep all day, then I wouldn't have to trudge through the snow." You admitted with a chuckle, and a slight pout on your lips. Arthur smirked and shook his head, running a calloused hand through your bed-head. 

"Tell ya what," He grinned with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "I'll make you a bet. You and John catch more than me an' Micah, I'll keep you warm all night with nothing but the fireplace an' my hands."

"And if you win?" You asked, ignoring the blush on your cheeks as you smirked back at him.

"If I win, then YOU best thaw ME out tonight." He said before kissing the top of your head as he rose and stretched again.

"I can do that." You giggled and slowly sat up, reaching for your many layers of clothes beside the bed. You both dressed in a comfortable silence, soon slipping outside into the fresh snow and biting wind. You both scurried to grab some warm breakfast and down some hot coffee before Arthur brushed your lips with a warm kiss in a subtle goodbye before joining Micah to ride off into the woods.

"Ready? Sooner we head out, sooner we can get back." John said as he buttoned his coat up, nearing you as you stood and nodded. You yanked your cap further over your ears as you followed him to the horses.

"S'not too late to stay here and help Grimshaw." John added as he glanced back at you, taking care to step into his tracks to make the trek through the deep snow easier. You knew no one would think less of you deciding not to hunt, after all you may be tough as hell but this life wasn't one you were born into and you did have a little more leeway than folks Arthur or John who were. However, you didn't want to use that advantage.

Well, really you didn't want to ride into a blizzard and spend all day hunting for food that was smarter than you because it knew to stay inside. More than anything you wanted to spend the day in the cabin with Arthur beside the fire, drinking hot coffee and whisky and doing absolutely nothing, and the thought of backing out of this hunting trip was sinfully tempting.

But you couldn't. Your family needed food, and you were fit enough to brave the weather to keep everyone fed.

"Trying to get ride of me, are ya?" You teased John from behind your scarf as you tossed him one end of a rope. He laughed, his breath puffing and evaporating quickly before tying the rope to the end of his horse's saddle. This idea was yours, born from your fear of being separated in this weather, of connecting your horses with a line. Of course in a chase it would breakaway, but as long as you were just walking in search for food and supplies, it was a fine idea.

With the yowling wind in your ears, you both rode off into the rocky terrain. You both remained silent, shielding your eyes from the stinging snow to search for any sighting of food. It hardly seemed like you were moving at all, but you knew time was passing because your face, fingers and toes soon began to protest the cold. You rubbed your hands together frantically to keep the feeling, then you shoved them under your armpits to keep them from the wind. John glanced over at you and frowned before pulling his own buckskin gloves off and holding them out.

"I can't-"

"Take mine? Hell yes you will. No reason we can't switch out." He butted in and you took them from his hands and slipped them on. You sighed in relief as the warmth returned, grabbing the Yellow's reins and shouting a thank you over the storm to John. 

You made a note to as one of the girls back at camp to knit you up some mittens. They wouldn't be waterproof, but they'd be way better than nothing.

Just as your mind began to wander and think about a warm fire and stew back at camp, a subtle motion caught your eye on the rocks above. You stopped Yellow, which promtped John to do the same. You pressed a finger to your lips and then pointed up to the ridge above you were a single doe was nervously picking at a dead plant.

Proud at your hunting prowess, you slipped off of Yellow and pulled your rifle from your saddle as John reached the same. You raised them at the same time, both risking a shot knowing if either of you missed you'd have to return empty handed.

The dual shots created a puff of warm smoke and the doe hit the icy rocks instantly. John let out a whoop and you both hurried to put your rifles away and you began to scale the cold rocks in order to reach the deer's body. Once you reached it, you braced yourself against a large rock, ignoring the chill, and pushed it over the edge to John below, where he was waiting to tie it up on his horse.

"We're eating like kings tonight!" He grinned as he offered you a hand to keep you from slipping down the small slope. You took it with a grin and a thanks, helping him lift the doe up and secure it. He suggested you both stay here a minute, out of the wind at least, and have a quick bite. You fished some (slightly stale) crackers from your saddle bag, trading a few to John in exchange for some of his rabbit jerky. As you sipped from your canteen you frowned, and were hit with the feeling you were in danger. You looked around, and saw nothing, but the feeling persisted. You rubbed the back of your neck to try to get the hairs to go back down and dissipate the prickling feeling, but to no avail.

As you debated on whether or not to voice your weariness, Yellow whinnied in a panic and began to back away from the ridge with his large black eyes wider than normal.

"The hell?!" John shouted as his own horse began to become skittish as well.

The answer came in the form of a feral snarl and a flash of yellow fur.

John cursed loudly as a mountain lion landed on him with it's full weight, sending the horses off in a panicked run. Still holding your rifles, you realized in horror. Frantically, you did the first thing that came to mind which was to grab some of the stones at your feet and began to pelt the cougar with them.

It did have the desired effect, which was making the animal let go of John, the rocks and his fists a good combo. The bad thing was the predator seemed to realize the cause of the rocks was you, because it turned around and bent down before lunging at you. Your body reacted before your mind, and your arm covered your face and neck, and thankfully the thick wool coat took the brunt of the cat's teeth and claws, leaving your arm without much sleeve and a small collection of puncture wounds. 

John reached down and yanked a hunting knife from his boot and tackled the cat like a maniac, apparently enjoying the adrenaline a lot more than you, and lodged the weapon in the creature's neck. You felt a warm spray of blood, then the heavy weight of a dead mountain lion and a full grown John Marston. You just grunted and began to push the creature off, your friend helping in your endeavor.

"You alive under there?" He asked, offering his uninjured arm to help you up. You took it with a nod and looked him up and down.

"You're bleeding!" You huffed out as blood dripped over his eye. John made a small noise of surprise and touched his forehead.

"Yeah, she thought my head looked good I suppose. Lucky she didn't crush the bone." He said and grabbed a snowball and pressed it against the wound before whistling loudly for his horse. You joined, calling Yellow's name in hopes they were still close.

Luck seemed to be favoring you because the horses returned, nervous still, but loyal.

"Help me with this." John instructed, tapping the dead wild cat with his boot. "I'm bringing her back to camp."

"Can we even eat it?" You probed curiously as you helped him lift the beast onto Yellow's back and tie it up.

"I don't know, but I want to see the look on Arthur's face when he sees it." John grinned, in an almost childish way, and remembering your wager with your beloved this morning you began to grin too. Mounting your horses, you spent the ride back to camp thinking up all ways Arthur would be keeping you warm tonight.

You and John rode proudly into the cluster of cabins, still covered in blood and high spirits, chatting happily about hot coffee and the thought of dinner. You approached the center, where you saw Arthur (with Micah no where in sight) chatting with Dutch as they waited for your return or waited to prep a search party.

His first instinct upon seeing you and John covered in blood, torn clothes and skittish horses was to rush to you in a slight panic, however after seeing your faces he didn't move. Two small squirrels hung from a rope in his hands, and his eyes finally moved to the doe and cougar on your horses, taking a moment to figure it out. And he had to admit, seeing you trot into camp, covered in blood, grinning like a fool and glowing with pride made him swallow sharply. It was definitely attractive. He kept his facade, however, and watched as you slipped off Yellow and accepted a bandage from Abigail and wrapped up your arm, John beginning the story of what happened to her and Dutch.

He finally made his way to you and eyed the dead animals again. "A doe and a cougar." He stated matter-of-factly, watching you smirk at him.

"You never asked if I was a betting man." You pointed out and moved to your tiptoes to steal a quick kiss from him. "If you think this is good you should see me count cards."

"I'm never going to hear the end of this from you or John, am I?"

"Oh, no." You snickered.

"Well, fuck." Arthur sighed and draped his arm over you, letting you lean in close to start to steal his warmth.

"Not until you take me back to the cabin, Mr. Morgan." You replied, and Arthur smirked broadly at that, and began guiding you into the camp towards your cabin, a swagger in his walk as he scooped you up, bridal style and kissed your neck deeply, making you giggle at his scratchy beard, and he paused only to reply, "That can be arranged, darlin'."


End file.
